"I see something I don't understand, and then I make a film to clarify it" - a tribute to Kim Ki-Dook

~ I always ask myself a question: What is a person? What does it mean to be human? Maybe people will consider my new movies brutal again. But this violence is simply a reflection of what they really are, of what is in each of us to some degree. ~

At the end of last year, the world lost one of the geniuses of film art - Kim Ki-Dook. His idiosyncratic arthouse cinema, passionate stories, exceptional visual compositions, sensual, almost speechless but full-blooded characters and their raging emotions - all this raises the author to the level of one of the most important and characteristic contemporary directors. Controversial and denied by many, the talented Korean reminds us that the true purpose of art is to shift the layers within us, to confuse and rearrange us. That some movies are not for everyone, that cinema is not always the entrance to an unknown ideal world. That sometimes directorial decisions are the attempt of one's mind to comprehend the most incomprehensible.

Kim Ki-duk was born in 1960 in a small provincial town in South Korea. In his early years, the family moved to Seoul, where he attended an agricultural school. Extreme poverty, however, forced him to start working in a local factory. For some time he was attracted to the clergy and volunteered at a shelter for the blind, where he helped shape the frescoes in a local church. From 1990 to 1992 he studied painting at the Academy of Fine Arts in Paris.

In 1993, he won an award from the Screenwriters' Institute for his text in the film "Artist and Criminal Sentenced to Death." He made his directorial debut with the cash prize "Crocodile" ("Ag-o", 1996), greeted with great curiosity and enthusiasm by local critics.

"Yes, this fact worries me. But it's the same with the food we eat every day, and people who eat animals don't seem to care that they've been killed. Animals are part of the consumer cycle. It looks a lot harsher on screen, but it doesn't really make a difference. And yes, there are cultural differences and maybe Americans will have a problem with that, but if they can be a little more sensitive to what is acceptable in different countries and cultures, I hope they won't be as extreme as shown on screen. . "

Roger Ebert defines the protagonist in this film - life, and the antagonist - time and change

"Spring, summer, autumn, winter… and spring again" (Spring, summer, fall, winter… and spring, 2003) is perhaps one of Ki-Duk's most famous works. A powerful and mysterious parable in the spirit of the Korean religious-philosophical tradition, which brings calm but also grabs you by the throat. The film is a phenomenal, introverted mantra for the soul, with stunning, visually brilliant scenes. The characters are almost speechless, and we learn about their feelings and emotions from their actions. This lack of remarks and dialogues is characteristic of the entire work of the Korean master, because according to him "words are often deceptive and meaningless. ". A curious fact is that the film was shot without a pre-written script.

In 2004, Ki-Duk won the Silver Lion Award for Best Director at the Venice Masterpiece Festival.Stick No. 3 (3-Iron, 2004). The film is a wordless and silent love story that confronts the harsh reality with the magical, almost fabulous visual picture, saturated with sensuality and passion. Minimalist and gentle, the film relies more on gestures, expressions, feelings and suggestions to reach every cell of the viewer.

During the shooting of "The Dream (Bi-Mong, 2008) one of the actresses nearly died in an accident on the set, with Ki-Duk himself saving her from certain death. "In the beautiful and yet cruel, enchanting and yet tense, sad and yet sweet imaginary movie world I was creating, I had no fear of death at all. As I told the turbulent stories in an even more intense, painful, heartless, and heartbreaking way, all my emotions infected me like a virus. I became the most unhappy person, deluding myself that I was manipulating the world. There was nothing I could do at that moment. My inferiority complex created my films. shares the artist.

Deeply shocked by the incident, the director quit his job and lived far from civilization in a lonely wooden hut an hour's drive from Seoul. "In the last 2-3 years I have not found meaning in my life, so I did not make movies. I was out of my mind for a while and cried all the time. I hated everything. But then I thought that life is too long.